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The  Story  of  Patsij 


KATE  DOUGLAS  SMITH 


IVRTTT.EN  AND   TO  />'/•  .sv)A/)  /VA'    /7/A'  BENEFIT  Ol-    I'll  I'. 
.VA'/r  SILVER  STRKKT  AV.V/?AViV;.-/A"/Vi.V.V 


" 


THE  STORY  OF  PATSY 


I    REMINISCENCE 


KATE  DOUGLAS  (SMITH  ] 


SAN    1  K  \NVISCO 

('.  A.  MURDOCK&  Co.,  532  CLAY  STREET 
1883 


.4 
•NAA5 


TO 

H.  V.  C. 

IN  GRATEFUL  MEMORY  OF  (M.ADNKSS  OIVKN   TO 
SORROWFUL    LITTLE    LIVES. 


Copyright, 
1882. 


UbrSy  .ANCROFT  WBBA*Y 

6"  ^  kq"73 

The    Story  of  Patsy. 


r  had  been  a  long,  wearisome  day  at  the  charity 
Kindergarten,  and  the  teacher  was  alone  in  the 
silent,  deserted  room.  Gone  were  all  the  little 
heads,  yellow  and  black,  frizzled  and  smooth;  the 
dancing,  restless,  curious  eyes;  the  too  mischievous, 
naughty,  eager  hands  and  noisy  feet,  that  had  made  the 
great  room  human,  but  now  left  it  quiet  and  empty. 
Eighty  pairs  of  tiny  boots  had  clattered  down  the 
stairs;  eighty  baby  woes  had  been  relieved;  eighty 
little  torn  coats  pulled  on  with  loving  hands;  eighty 
sloppy  little  kisses  fondly  pressed  on  a  willing  cheek, 
and  another  day  was  over. 

I  sank  into  my  small  rocking-chair,  and,  clasping  my 
arms  over  my  head,  bent  it  upon  the  table,  and  closed 
my  eyes.  The  sun  shone  gratefully  in  at  the  west  win- 
dows (he  was  our  most  generous  subscriber,  and  the 
children's  warmest  friend),  touched  the  gold  fish  with 
rosy  glory,  and  poured  a  flood  of  grateful  heat  over  my 
shoulders. 


4  THE  STORY  OF  PATSY. 

The  clatter  of  a  tin  pail  outside  the  door,  the  uncer- 
tain turning  of  the  knob  by  a  hand  too  small  to  grasp 
it.  "I  forgitted  my  bucket.  Good-bye,  Miss  Kate." 
(Another  kiss.)  "Good-bye,  little  man;  run  along/' 
Silence  again,  this  time  continued  and  profound.  Mrs. 
Jinking  was  evidently  not  coming  to-day  to  ask  me  if 
she  should  give  blow  for  blow  in  her  next  connubial 
fracas.  I  was  grateful  to  be  spared  until  the  morrow, 
when  I  should  perhaps  have  greater  strength  to  attack 
Mr.  Jinkins,  and  help  Mrs.  Somers'  dropsy,  and  find 
mourning  for  the  Jones  funeral,  and  clothes  for  the 
new  Higgins  twins.  (Oh,  Mrs.  Higgins!  would  not 
one  have  sufficed  you?) 

The  events  of  the  day  march  through  my  tired  brain; 
so  tired !  so  tired !  and  just  a  bit  discouraged  and  sad 
too.  "  Had  I  been  patient  enough  with  the  children  ? 
Had  I  forgiven  cheerfully  enough  the  seventy  times 
seven  sins  of  omission  and  commission  ?  Had  I  poured 
out  the  love — bountiful,  disinterested,  long-suffering — 
of  which  God  shows  us  the  measure  and  fulness  ?  Had 

I "  But  the  sun  sunk  lower  and  lower  behind  the 

dull  brown  hills,  and  sleep  brought  forge tfulness  for  a 
half  hour,  until  I  was  awakened  by  a  subdued  and  apolo- 
getic cough.  Starting  from  my  nap,  I  sat  bolt  upright  in 


THE  STOR  Y  OF  PATSY.  5 

astonishment;  for  quietly  ensconced  in  a  small  red  chair 
by  my  table,  and  sitting  still  as  a  mouse,  was  the  weird- 
est apparition  ever  seen  in  human  form.  A  boy,  seem- 
ing— how  many  years  old  shall  I  say?  for  in  some  ways 
he  might  have  been  a  century  old  when  he  was  born — 
looking,  in  fact,  as  if  he  had  never  been  young,  and 
would  never  grow  older.  He  had  a  shrunken,  some- 
what deformed  body,  a  curious,  melancholy  face,  with 
a  hedge  of  eyebrow,  and  such  a  head  of  hair  that  he 
might  have  been  shocked  for  a  door-mat.  The  sole 
redeemers  of  the  countenance  were  two  big,  pathetic, 
soft,  dark  eyes — so  appealing  that  one  could  hardly 
meet  their  glance  without  feeling  instinctively  in  one's 
pocket  for  a  biscuit  or  a  ten-cent  piece.  But  such  a 
face!  He  had  apparently  made  an  attempt  at  a  toilet 
without  the  aid  of  a  mirror,  for  there  was  a  clean  circle 
like  a  race-track  round  his  nose,  which  member  reared 
its  crest,  untouched  and  grimy,  from  the  center  like  a 
sort  of  judge's-stand,  while  the  dusky  rim  outside  rep- 
resented the  space  for  audience-seats. 

1  gazed  at  this  astonishing  diagram  of  a  countenance 
for  a  minute  spellbound,  thinking  it  resembled  nothing 
so  much  as  a  geological  map,  marked  with  coal  depos- 
its. And  as  for  his  clothes,  his  jacket  was  ragged  and 


6  THE  STOR  Y  OF  PA  TS  Y. 

arbitrarily  clocked  at  the  waist,  while  one  of  his  trouser 
legs  was  slit  up  at  the  side,  and  flapped  hither  and 
thither  like  a  lugsail  in  a  calm. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  I  at  length,  waking  up  to  my  duties 
as  hostess,  ' '  did  you  come  to  see  me  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  did."  " 

"  Let  me  think;  I  don't  seem  to  remember.  Are  you 
one  of  my  little  friends  ? " 

"  No,  I  haint  yit,  but  I'm  goin'  to  be!  " 

"That's  good,  and  we'll  begin  right  now,  shall  we?'' 

"Iknowed  yer  for  Miss  Kate,  the  minute  I  seen 
yer ! " 

'  *  How  was  that,  eh  ?  " 

"The  boys  said  as  how  you  was  a  kind  o'  pretty  lady, 
with  towzly  hair  in  front."  (Shades  of  my  cherished 
crimps ! ) 

"I'm  very  much  obliged  to  the  boys  ! " 

"  Kin  yer  take  me  in  ?  " 

"  What!     Here!     Into  the  Kindergarten  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  bin  waitin'  this  yer  long  whiles  fur  to  git 
in." 

"  Why  my  dear  little  boy,"  (gazing  dubiously  at  his 
contradictory  countenance,)  "  you're  too — big,  aren't 
you  ?  We  have  only  little  chickens  here,  you  know ;  not 
six  years  old.  You  are  more,  aren't  you  ?  " 


THE  STOR  Y  OF  PA  TS  K  7 

'*  Well,  I'm  nine  by  the  book;  but  I  aint  no  more'n 
scerce  six  along  o'  my  losing  them  three  year." 

"What  do  you  mean,  child  ?  How  could  you  lose 
three  years ! ' '  cried  I,  more  and  more  puzzled  by  my 
curious  visitor. 

' '  I  lost  'em  on  the  back  stairs,  don't  yer  know !  My 
father  he  got  fightin'  mad  when  he  was  drunk,  and 
pitched  me  down  two  flights  of  'em,  and  my  back  was 
most  clean  broke  in  two,  so  I  couldn't  git  out  o'  bed 
forever,  till  just  now !  " 

' '  Why,  poor  child,  who  took  care  of  you  V  " 

"Mother  she  minded  me  when  she  warn't  out 
washin' ! " 

"  And  did  she  send  you  here  to-day  ?  " 

'  Well  !  however  could  she,  bein'  as  how  she's 
dead?  1  s'posed  you  knew  that.  She  died  after  I 
got  well  —  she  only  waited  fur  me  to  git  up,  anyhow  !" 

(Oh,  God!  these  poor  mothers!  they  bite  back  the 
cry  of  their  pain,  and  fight  death  with  love,  so  long  as 
they  have  a  shred  of  strength  for  the  battle!) 

"  What's  your  name,  dear  boy  V  " 

"Patsy." 

"Patsy  what?" 

"  Patsy  nothin!  just  only  Patsy,  that's  all  of  it.   The 


8  THE  STOR  Y  OF  PA  TS  Y. 

boys  calls  me  '  Humpty  Dumpty,"  and* 'Rags,'   but 
that's  sassy!" 

"But  all  little  boys  have  another  name,  Patsy! " 

"  Oh,  I  got  another  if  yer  so  dead  set  on  it — it's 
Dinnis — but  Jim  says  'twont  wash;  'taint  no  'count, 
and  I  would  tell  yer  nothin'  but  a  sure  pop  name, 
and  that's  Patsy.  Jim  says,  lots  of  other  fellers  out  to 
the  'sylum  has  Dinnis  fur  names,  and  they  'aint  worth 
shucks,  iiuther.  Dinnis,  he  must  have  had  orful  much 
boys,  I  guess !  " 

"Who  is  Jim?" 

"  Him  and  I's  brothers,  kind  of  brothers,  not  sure 
'nuff  brothers;  we  lives  together,  and  he  minds  me 
when  I'm  sick,  and  swipes  the  grub,  yer  know!  " 

"  And  you  haven't  any  father,  poor  little  man  ?  " 

"Yer  bet  yer  life  I  don't  want  no  more  father  in 
mine.  He  knocked  me  down  them  stairs,  and  then  he 
went  off  in  a  ship,  and  I  don't  go  a  cent  on  fathers! " 

(Here  he  withdrew  with  infinite  trouble  from  his 
ragged  pocket  an  orange,  or  at  least  the  remains  of 
one,  which  seemed  to  have  been  fiercely  dealt  with  by 
circumstance.) 

"Here's  an  orange  I  brung  yer!  Its  beenskwtiz 
but  there's  more  in  it  !  " 


THE  STORY  O/<*  /V/71VK  p 

"  Thank  you,  Patsy."  (Forced  expression  of  radiant 
gratitude.)  "Now,  let  us  see!  You  want  to  coine  to  the 
Kindergarten,  do  you,  and  learn  to  be  a  happy,  little 
working  boy?  But,  oh,  Patsy!  I'm  like  the  old  woman 
in  the  shoe,  I  have  so  many  children  I  don't  know  what 
to  do!" 

4 'Yes,  I  know.  Jim  knows  a  boy  what  went  here 
wunst.  He  said  yer  never  licked  the  boys;  and  he 
said,  when  the  nifty  little  girls  coine  to  git  in,  with  their 
white  aprons,  yer  said  there  warn't  no  room;  but  when 
the  dirty  chaps  with  tored  close  come,  yer  said  yer'd 
in '(/,•<-  room  .  Jim  said  as  how  yer'd  never  show  me  the 
door,  sure!"  (Bless  Jim's  heart!)  "P'raps  I 
can't  come  every  day,  yer  know,  'coz  I  might  have 
tits!" 

"Fits!  Good  gracious,  child  !  What  makes  you 
think  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  has  'em  !"  (composedly.)  "I  kicks  the  foot- 
board clean  off  when  I  has  'em  bad,  all  along  o'  my 
losing  them  three  year!  Why,  yer  got  an  orgind, 
hain't  yer?  Where's  the  handle  fur  to  make  it  go? 
Couldn't  I  blow  it  for  yer?" 

"It's  a  piano,  not  an  organ;  it  doesn't  need  blow- 
ing." 


io  THE  STORY  OS  PATSY. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  seen  one  in  a  saloon!  I  seen  such  an 
orful  pretty  lady  play  on  one.  She  give  her  silk  dress 
a  Ntrish  to  one  side,  so  /  and  then  she  cocked  her  head 
over  like  a  road  sparrer,  and  then  her  hands  all  jing- 
ling over  with  rings  went  a  whizzing  up  and  down  them 
black  and  white  teeth  just  like  anything!" 

"You  know,  Patsy,  I  can't  bear  to  have  my  little 
Kindergarten  boys  stand  round  the  saloon  doors;  it 
isn't  a  good  place,  and  if  you  want  to  be  good  men, 
you  must  learn  to  be  good  little  boys  first,  don't  you 
see  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  wanted  some  kind  of  fun.  I  seen  a  cirkis 
wunst — that  was  fun  !  I  seen  it  through  a  hole — it 
takes  four  bits  to  git  inside  the  tent,  and  me  and  an- 
other feller  found  a  big  hole  and  went  halveys  on  it. 
First  lie  give  a  peek,  and  then  I  give  a  peek,  and  he 
was  bigger'n  me,  and  he  took  orful  long  peeks,  he  did, 
'n  when  it  come  my  turn  the  ladies  had  just  allers 
jumped  through  the  hoops,  or  the  horses  was  gone  out, 
'n  bime  by  he  said,  mebbe  we  might  give  the  hole  a 
stretch  and  make  it  a  little  mite  bigger,  it  wouldn't  do 
no  harm;  'n  I'd  better  cut  it,  'coz  his  fingers  wras  sore, 
'n  I  just  cutted  it  a  little  mite,  'n  a  Cop  come  up  behind 
and  h'isted  us,  and  I  never  seen  no  more  cirkis;  but  I 


/  '///:   .V r6>y?  F  OF  PA  TS  Y.  n 

went  to  Sunday  School  wunst,  and  it  warn't  so  much 
fun  as  the  cirkis !  " 

(I  thought  I  would  not  begin  moral  lectures  at  once, 
Imt  seize  a  more  opportune  time  to  compare  the  rela- 
tive claims  of  Sunday  School  and  circus.) 

"  Now,  Patsy,  I  must  be  going  home,  but  you  shall 
conic  to-morrow,  at  nine  o'clock,  surely,  remember! 
and  the  children  will  be  so  glad  to  have  another  little 
friend.  You'll  dress  yourself  nice  and  clean,  won't 
you  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  should  smile!  but  these  is  the  best  I  got. 
I  got  another  part  to  this  hat,  though,  and  another 
pocket  berlongs  with  these  britches."  (He  alternated 
tin-  crown  and  rim  of  a  hat,  but  never  was  extravagant 
enough  to  wear  them  together.)  " 'Aint  I  clean?  I 
cleaned  myself  by  the  feelin'!  " 

"  Here's  a  glass,  dear;  how  do  you  think  you  suc- 
ceeded V  " 

"Lordy,  massy!  I  didn't  git  much  of  a  sweep  on 
that,  did  I  now  ?  But  don't  you  fret,  I've  got  the  lay  of 
it  now,  and  I'll  just  polish  her  off  red-hot  to-morrer,  'n 
don't  you  forget  it !  " 

"  Patsy,  here's  a  cookie  and  a  glass  of  milk;  let's  eat 
and  drink  together,  because  this  is  the  beginning  of 


12  THE  STORY  OF  PATSY. 

our   friendship;  but  you  mustn't  talk  street  words  to 
Miss  Kate ;  she  doesn't  like  it !  " 

In  five  minutes  I  was  taking  my  homeward  walk, 
mind  and  heart  full  of  my  elfish  visitor,  with  his  strange 
and  ancient  thoughts,  his  sharp  speeches  and  queer 
fancies.  Would  he  ever  come  back,  or  would  one  of 
those  terrible  fits  carry  him  off  before  I  was  permitted 
to  help  and  ease  his  crooked  little  body,  or  pour  a  bit 

of  mother-love  into  his  starved  little  heart  ? 
*•*####          •*,### 

Morning  came  as  mornings  do  come,  bringing  to  the 
overworked  body  and  mind  a  certain  languor  difficult 
to  shake  off.  As  I  walk  down  the  dirty  little  street, 
with  its  rows  of  old  clothes  shops,  saloons  and  second- 
hand furniture  stores,  I  call  several  of  my  laggards, 
and  give  them  a  friendly  warning.  "  Quarter  of  nine, 
Mrs.  Finnigan!"  "Bless  me  soul,  darlin'!  Well,  I 
will  hurry  up  my  childern,  that  I  will;  but  the  baby 
was  that  bad  with  the  whoopin'  cough  last  night  that  I 
never  got  three  winks  meself,  darlin'!'' 

"All  right;  never  mind  the  apron;  let  Jimmy  walk 
on  with  me,  and  I  will  give  him  one  at  school. "  Jimmy 
trots  proudly  at  my  side,  munching  a  bit  of  baker's  pie 
and  carrying  my  basket.  As  we  progress  we  gather 


THE  STOR  Y  OF  PA  TS  ) .  /j» 

into  our  train  Levi,  Jacob,  David,  Moses,  Elias,  and 
the  other  prophets  who  belong  to  our  band.  We  hasten 
the  steps  of  the  infant  Garibaldi,  who  is  devouring 
refuse  fruit  from  his  mother's  store,  and  stop  finally  to 
pluck  a  small  Denis  Kearney  from  the  coal-hod  where 
In-  has  been  put  for  safe-keeping.  The  day  has  really 
begun,  and  with  its  first  service  the  hands  grow  willing, 
and  the  heart  filled  with  sunshine. 

As  the  boys  at  my  side  prattle  together  of  the  "per- 
ccssion"  and  the  "sojers"  they  saw  yesterday,  I  wish 
longingly  that  I  could  be  transported  with  my  tiny 
hosts  to  the  sunny,  quiet  country  on  this  clear,  lovely 
morning. 

I  think  of  my  own  joyous  childhood,  spent  in  dear 
companionship  with  shining  fishes,  silvery  brooks, 
painted  butterflies,  singing  birds,  crickets,  grasshop- 
pers, and  the  thousand  and  one  playfellows  of  Nature 
which  the  good  God  has  placed  within  reach  of  the 
happy  country  children.  I  think  of  the  shining  eyes 
of  my  little  Lucys  and  Marys  and  Nellies  could  I  turn 
them  loose  in  a  field  of  golden  buttercups  and  daisies, 
witli  sweet  wild  strawberries  hidden  at  their  roots;  of 
the  merry  glee  of  my  dear  boisterous  little  prophets 
and  patriots,  if  I  could  set  them  catching  tadpoles  in 


14  THE  STOR  Y  OF  PA  TS  Y. 

a  clear  wayside  pool,  or  hunting  hens'  nests  in  the  alder 
bushes  behind  the  barn  and  beside  the  river,  or  wading 
for  cat-o'-nine-tails,  with  their  ragged  little  trousers 
tucked  above  their  knees !  And,  oh !  hardest  of  all  to 
bear,  I  think  of  our  poor  little  invalids,  so  young  to 
struggle  with  languor  and  pain !  Just  to  imagine  the 
joy  of  my  poor  lame  boys  and  my  weary,  pale  and 
peevish  children,  so  different  from  the  bright-eyed, 
apple-cheeked  darlings  of  well-to-do  parents — mere 
babies,  who,  from  morning  till  night,  seldom  or  never 
know  what  it  is  to  cuddle  down  warmly  into  the  natural 
rest  of  a  mother's  loving  bosom ! 

Oh,  ye  happy,  thoughtless  mothers,  languid  and 
charming,  receiving  in  graceful  negligee  admiring 
friends  who  come  to  congratulate  and  "  see  baby"- 
just  think  of  these,  and  for  God's  sake  help  one  little 
cold,  wretched,  sickly  child  into  something  better,  as  a 
thank-offering  for  your  own  rosy  darling. 

********         •& 

We  come  to  the  little  tin  shop  on  the  corner — a 
blessed  trysting  place,  forever  sacred,  where  the  chil- 
dren wait  for  me  in  sunshine,  rain,  wind  and  storm, 
unless  forbidden;  and  here  on  the  step  sits  faithful 
Patsy,  with  a  clean  and  shining  morning  face,  all  glow- 


7  ///:   .V  TOR  Y  OF  PA  TS  Y.  ij 

ing  with  anticipation.  How  well  I  remember  my  poor 
lad  s  first  day!  \Yhere  should  I  seat  him?  There  was 
an  empty  red  chair  beside  little  Tim  Higgins,  but  Tim's 
character,  obtained  from  a  fond  and  candid  parent, 
had  been  to  the  effect  "  that  he  was  in  Heaven  anytime 
if  he  could  just  lay  a  boy  out  tiat!"  And  there  was  a 
place  by  Moses,  but  lie  was  very  much  of  a  fop  just 
then,  owing  to  a  new  "second-hand"  coat,  and  might 
make  scathing  allusions  to  Patsy's  abbreviated  swallow- 
tail. 

But  a  pull  at  my  skirt  and  a  whisper  from   the  boy 
decided  ine. 

"  Please  can't  I  set  side  o'  you,  Miss  Kate?" 
"  But,  Patsy,  the  fun  of  it  is  I  never  c/o  sit." 
"  Why,  I    thought  teachers   never    done    no  thin'  but 
set!" 

"  You  don't  know  much  about  little  boys  and  girls, 
that's  sure !  Well,  suppose  you  put  your  chair  in  front, 
and  close  to  me.  Here  is  Maggie  Bruce  on  one  side. 
She  is  a  real  little  Kindergarten  mother,  and  will  show 
you  just  how  to  do  everything.  t  Won't  you,  Maggie?" 
From  this  time  on  Patsy  was  the  first  to  come  in  the 
morning  and  the  last  to  leave  at  night.  He  took  the 
whole  institution  under  his  guardianship,  and  had  a 


16  THE  STOR  V  OF  PA  TS  Y. 

watchful  eye  for  everybody  and  everything  belonging 
to  it. 

He  soon  learned  the  family  history  of  every  child  in 
the  school,  and  those  family  histories,  I  assure  you, 
were  of  an  exciting  nature;  but  so  great  was  Patsy's 
prudence  and  his  idea  of  the  proprieties  that  he  never 
divulged  his  knowledge  till  we  were  alone.  Then  his 
tongue  would  be  loosed,  and  he  would  break  into  his 
half  child-like,  half  ancient  and  reflective  conversation. 

He  had  a  high  temper,  which  he  was  just  learning  to 
control,  and  he  was  not  always  kind  and  gentle  with  his 
little  playfellows;  for  he  had  been  raised  in  a  hard 
school,  and  the  giving  and  taking  of  blows  was  a  nat- 
ural matter,  to  him  the  only  feasible  manner  of  set- 
tling a  misunderstanding. 

To  me,  however,  his  conduct  was  touching  in  its 
devotion  and  perfect  obedience,  and  from  the  first  hour 
he  was  ray  preux  chevalier,  my  poor  little  knight,  .SY///.S 
penr  et  xatiH  reprochc. 

Meanwhile,  though  not  perfect,  he  was  greatly 
changed  for  the  better.  We  had  given  him  a  neat 
little  coat  and  trousers,  his  hair  was  short  and  smooth, 
and  his  great  dark  eyes  shone  with  unutterable  content. 
He  was  never  joyous;  born  under  a  cloud,  he  had  lived 


THE  STORY  OT  PA TSY.  17 

in  its  shadow,  and  sorrow  too  early  borne  had  left  its 
indelible  impress,  only  to  be  removed  by  the  "  undis- 
turbed vision  of  the  Father's  face,  which  is  joy  unut- 
terable ;"  but  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  was  at 
peace. 

So,  in  those  busy  afternoons  when  the  little  flock 
had  gone.  Patsy  and  I  stayed  together  and  arranged 
the  next  day's  occupations.  It  was  he  who  fastened  the 
ends  and  threaded  the  needles  and  set  right  the  sewing 
cards  of  the  babies:  and  only  the  initiated  can  compre- 
hend the  labyrinthian  maze  into  which  an  energetic 
three-year-old  can  transform  a  bit  of  sewing!  It  was 
he  who  fished  the  needles  from  the  cracks  in  the  floor, 
rubbed  the  blackboards,  and  scrubbed  the  slates,  talk- 
ing busily  the  while. 

"Jee-rush-y!  Miss  Kate,  we  can't  let  Jimmy  Buck 
have  no  more  needles;  he  sows  'em  thick  as  seed  round 
his  chair.  Now,  now  jist  look  yere!  Ef  that  Levy 
chap  hain't  scratched  the  hull  top  of  his  table  with  a 
buzzer!  I'd  lam  him  good  ef  I  was  you,  I  would!" 

"Do  you  think  our  Kindergarten  would  be  the 
pleasant  place  it  is  if  I  whipped  little  boys  every 

day?" 

*  *  No-o-o !     But  there  is  a  p'int — 


1 8  THE  STOR  Y  OF  PA  TS  Y. 

"Yes,  there  is,  I  know,  Patsy,  but  I  never  found 
it!" 

"Jim's  stayin'  out  nights  this  week,"  said  he  one  day, 
"  'n  I  hez  to  stay  along  o'  Miss  Kennet  till  nine 
o'clock." 

"  Why,  I  thought  Jim  always  stayed  at  home  in  the 
evening." 

"Yes,  he  allers  used  ter,  but  he's  busy  now  lookin' 
up  a  girl,  don't  yer  know  V  " 

"  Looking  up  a  girl!     What  do  you  mean,  Patsy?" 

Patsy  scratched  his  head  with  the  "ten-toothed 
comb  of  Nature," — a  habit  which  prevailed  with  terrible 
and  suggestive  frequency  when  I  first  came  "into  my 
kingdom" — and  answered : 

"  Lookin'  up  a  girl!  Why,  I  s'posed  yer  knew  that. 
I  dunno  zackly.  Jim  says  all  the  fellers  does.  He 
says  he  hates  to  git  the  feed  an'  wash  the  dishes  orfiy, 
'n'  girls  like  ter  do  it  best  of  anything." 

"  Oh! "  cried  I,  light  bursting  in  upon  my  darkened 
intellect  when  dish-washing  was  mentioned;  "  he  wants 
to  get  married!" 

"Well,  he  has  to  look  up  a  girl  first,  don't  yer 
s'pose  ?  " 

1  i  Yes,  of  course ;  but  I  don' t  see  how  Jim  can  get 


7 '///;  .V  7 1 )  R  Y  OF  PA  TS  K  /p 

money  enough  to  take  care  of  a  wife.  He  only  has 
thirty  dollars  a  month!  " 

"Well,  he's  goin'  ter  git  a  girl  what' 11  'go  halveys,  t 
don't  yer  know,  and  pay  for  her  keep.  He'd  rather 
have  a  millingtary  girl— they're  the  nicest — but  if  he 
can  t,  he's  goiii'  to  try  for  one  out  of  the  box  factory!'7 

"Oh,  Patsy!  I  wish  - 

"  Why,  didn't  I  ought  ter  say  that  ?  " 

"  I  wish  yon  had  a  mother,  dear!  " 

"  If  I  had,  I'd  know  inore'n  I  do  now!  "  and  a  great 
sigh  heaved  itself  upward  from  beneath  the  ragged 
shirt  and  torn  jacket. 

' '  No,  you  wouldn't  know  so  much,  Patsy,  or  at  least, 
you  would  get  the  right  end  first;  never  mind,  dear 
boy.  you  can't  understand!" 

Jim  did  not  find  his  girl  that  summer,  although  he 
"looked"  industriously.  Either  the  "millingtaries"  did 
not  smile  upon  him  and  his  slender  bank  account,  or 
they  were  not  willing  to  wash  the  dishes  and  halve  the 
financial  responsibilities  besides;  but  as  the  reluctant 
summer,  never  warm  and  orthodox,  slipped  into  au- 
tumn, and  as  the  autumn  days  gave  place  to  the  dull, 
dark  winter  weather,  Patsy's  pale  face  grew  paler,  and 
his  soft,  dark  eyes  grew  larger  and  more  pathetic.  It 


20  THE  STOR  Y  OF  PA  TS  Y. 

seemed  to  me  as  if  a  sixth  sense  came  to  him  in  those 
days,  so  full  was  lie  of  wisdom  and  strange,  old-fash- 
ioned thoughts  and  intuitions.  His  eyes  never  left  iny 
face;  when,  in  passing  from  one  child  to  another,  my 
glance  fell  upon  him,  his  loving  gaze  seemed  always 
waiting  for  mine. 

In  the  afternoons,  as  he  pored  over  picture-books,  or 
sat  silently  by  the  window  watching  the  drops  chase 
each  other  down  the  pane,  his  talk  was  often  of  heaven 
and  the  angels.  His  mind  was  evidently  on  that  mys- 
tery which  has  puzzled  souls  since  the  beginning  of 
time;  for  no  anxious,  weary,  waiting  heart  has  ever 
ceased  to  beat  without  its  passionate  desire  to  look 
into  the  beyond. 

"Nixy  Jones'  mother  died  yesterday,  Miss  Kate; 
they  had  an  orful  nice  funeral!  " 

"Yes,  I'm  sorry  for  the  poor  little  children;  they 
will  miss  their  mamma." 

"Not  'miff  to  hurt  'em!  Them  Joneses  never  cared 
nuthin'  for  nobody;  they  was  playing  on  tin  oyster 
cans  the  hull  blessed  ev'nin',  till  Jim  went  'n  stop't  'em, 
*n  told  'em  it  warn't  perlite.  Say!  how  dretful  it  must 
be  to  go  down  into  the  cold,  dark  ground  and  be  shut 
up  in  a  tight  box,  'n  want  to  git  out — git  out — 'n  keep 


THE  STORY  OF  PATSY.  21 

hollerin'  "n  a  hollerin',  and  nobody  come  to  fetch  yer, 
cause  yer's  dead !  " 

"Oh,  Patsy,  child,  stop  such  fearful  thoughts  !  I 
expect  people  are  glad  and  willing  to  stay  when  they 
arc  dead — the  part  of  them  that  wonders  and  thinks 
and  feels  and  loves  and  is  happy  or  sad — you  know 
\vhat  I  mean,  don't  you  ?  "  »*J*CI«OFT  UBRAHY 

"Yes!"  he  said  slowly,  leaning  his  head  on  his 
hand. 

"  Well,  that  part  God  takes  care  of — it  is  His  own, 
and  He  makes  it  all  right.  And,  as  for  our  bodies, 
Patsy,  even  the  kittens  and  the  puppies  have  those, 
and  they  don't  worry  about  them.  You  talk  about  the 
cold,  dark  earth.  Why,  I  think  of  it  as  the  Render, 
warm  earth,  that  holds  the  little  brown  acorn,  until  it 
begins  to  grow  into  a  spreading  oak  tree,  and  nurses 
the  little  seeds  till  they  grow  into  lovely  blossoming 
flowers.  Now  we  must  trot  home,  Patsy.  Wrap  this 
shawl  over  your  shoulders,  and  come  under  my  um- 
brella." ^.  f. 

"Oh,  I  don't  need  any  shawl,  please.  I'm  so  orful 
hot!" 

"  That's  just  the  reason,"  I  replied,  as  I  looked  with 
anxious  eyes  at  his  flushed  cheeks. 


22  THE  STOR  Y  OF  PA  TS  Y. 

I  left  him  at  the  little  door  on  T—  —  street,  and  per. 
suaded  kind-hearted  Mrs.  Kemiet  to  give  him  some 
hot  soup  at  dinner  time. 

The  next  morning  I  was  startled  from  a  profound 
sleep  by  a  tremendous  peal  of  the  door  bell.  Though 
only  half  awakened,  my  forebodings  seemed  realized, 
and  the  bell  rang  "Patsy"  in  my  ears. 

I  hastily  slipped  on  my  dress  and  going  to  the  door 
saw  just  whom  I  expected,  Jim. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  Patsy  ?" 

' '  He's  turrible  bad,  Miss ;  he  got  took  with  one  o' 
them  fits  the  worst  kind  in  the  night  and  like  ter  died. 
Yer  could  a  heard  him  screech  a  block  off!" 

"  Oh,  my  poor  boy!  Have  you  had  a  doctor  ?  What 
did  he  say  V" 

"  He  says  most  likely  its  measles  or  mumps — they're 
all  over  town!" 

"  Oh,  for  shame!"  I  cried;  "don't  let  him  come  into 
the  house  again,  I  will  bring  another.  Who  is  with 
Patsy  now  ?  Are  you  going  back  ?  " 

"No,  Miss;  I  got  ter  go  'n  git  leave  from  boss  'fore 
I  kin  drop  work.  The  boys  found  Mr.  Kennet  and 
he's  mindin'  Patsy."  (Mrs.  Kennet  only  produced 
her  husband  on  extraordinary  occasions;  at  other  times 


THE  STORY  OF  PATSY.  23 

he  retired,  like  the  moon  on  dark  nights.)  "He  cries 
for  you;  he  says  he  don't  want  nothin' but  jist  Miss 
Kate,  and  he's  that  crazy  he  wants  to  git  up  'n  come 
to  the  Kindergarten!" 

"Dear  little  lad!"  I  said,  trying  to  keep  back  the 
tears.  "  Here,  Jim,  take  the  school  keys  to  Miss  Mar- 
garet and  ask  her  to  take  my  place  to-day.  I'll  start 
in  ten  minutes  for  Patsy." 

"Thank  yer,  Miss.  Say!  you  think  he'll  git  over 
tli is,  don't  yer,  Miss,  like  as  he  did  them  other  ones 
afore  ?  I  know  he's  nothin'  but  a  crooked  little  chap, 
but  he  aint  no  trouble  'n  his  keep  don't  cost  much,  and 
he's  getting  smart  'n  able  to  work  now;  I'm  so  used  to 
him  I  don't  like  to  let  him  go." 

kk  AVell,  we'll  hope  for  the  best,  and  perhaps  we  can 
pull  him  through,"  I  said,  in  homely  phrase. 

"Pull  him  through!"  Had  years  passed  over  his 
head  since  I  saw  him  last  ?  He  seemed  to  have  grown 
old  with  the  night's  pain,  but  the  eyes  shone  out  with 
new  lustre  and  brilliancy,  making  ready,  I  thought,  to 
receive  the  heavenly  visions.  I  knelt  dow7n  by  the  bed- 
side and  took  his  cold  hand  in  mine.  I  could  not  pray 
(iod  to  spare  him,  it  was  so  clear  that  He  had  better 
take  him  t<>  Himself. 


24  THE  STORY  Of  PATSY. 

"I  knowed  you'd  come,  Miss  Kate,"  he  said  faintly; 
"I  knowed  you'd  hurry  up;  you's  allers  hurryin'  up  for 
us  boys!"  (Oh,  how  beautiful,  how  awesonte  it  is  to  be 
the  messenger  of  peace  to  an  unhappy  soul !  So  great 
a  joy  is  it  to  bear,  that  it  is  not  given  to  many  twice  in 
a  lifetime.) 

The  rain  beat  upon  the  frail  roof,  the  wind  blew 
about  the  little  house  and  a  darkness  of  fast-gathering 
black  clouds  fell  into  the  room  in  place  of  the  morning 
sunbeams.  It  was  a  gloomy  day  for  a  journey,  but  if 
one  were  traveling  from  shadow  into  sunshine,  I  thought, 
it  would  not  matter  much ! 

"Mrs.  Kennet  says  I  must  liev  a  priest,  but  I  don't 
want  no  priest  but  you,"  came  the  faint  voice  from  the 
bed.  "  What  does  priests  do,  when  folks  is  sick,  Miss 
Kate?" 

"They  pray,  Patsy." 

"What  fur?" 

I  paused,  for  in  my  grief  I  could  think  of  no  simple 
way  of  telling  that  ignorant  little  child  what  they  did 
pray  for. 

"They  pray,"  I  said  at  length,  "because  they  want 
to  talk  to  God  about  the  little  boy  who  is  coming  to 
Him,  to  tell  Him  how  glad  they  are  that  he  is  to  be 


THE  STOR  Y  OF  PA  TS  Y.  25 

happy  at  last,  but  that  they  shall  miss  him  very,  very 
much." 

"  The  priest  lives  clear  out  Market,  '11  he  wouldn't 
git  'ere  'fore  God  knew  the  hull  thing  'thout  his  tellin' 
of  it.  You  pray,  Miss  Kate." 

"Oh,  thou  dear,  loving  Father  in  Heaven,  Patsy's 
Father  and  mine,  who  givest  all  the  little  children  into 
their  mother's  arms,  if  one  of  them  is  lost  and  wander- 
ing about  the  world  forlorn  and  alone,  surely  Thou  wilt 
take  him  to  a  better  home.  We  send  little  Patsy  -to 
Thee  and  pray  that  his  heart  may  be  filled  with  joy  and 
thankfulness  when  he  comes  to  live  in  Thy  house." 

"Tell'im  'bout  them  three  years  what  I  lost,  so't 
he'll  make  lowance  jest  as  you  did." 

"  Oh,  God,  who  saw  fit  to  lay  heavy  burden  on  Pat- 
sy's little  shoulders  and  take  away  his  three  years, 
make  them  up  to  him  in  his  heavenly  life." 

"Yer  never  said  amen!  'Taint  no  good 'thout  yer 
say  amen!" 

"  Amen!" 

Silence  for  many  minutes.  The  brain  is  alive  with 
thoughts,  but  the  poor,  tired  body  is  weakened  already 
with  the  labor  of  telling  them.  When  he  speaks  again 
it  is  more  slowly,  and  with  greater  difficulty. 


26  THE  STORY  Of  PATSY. 

"  I  guess  —  Heaven  —  is  kind  o'like  —  our  Kinder- 
gartent  —  don't  you?  'n  so  —  I  ain't  goin'  to  feel  — 
strange!  There's  beautiful  places  and  flowers  bloomin' 
and  streams  rumiin',  like  those  in  the  stories  you  tell 
us,  and  lots  of  singing  like  we  have ;  and  the  peoples 
are  good  to  each  other,  like  our  children,  'ceptin'  Jim- 
my Battles —  'n  they'll  do  each  other's  work,  'n  wait 
on  the  angels,  'n  run  errants  for  God,  I  s'pose!  —  and 
everbody'll  wear  clean  —  white  —  aprons  —  like  — 
in  the  picture-books;  but  I  shan't  like  it  much  'tliout 
you  git  there  pretty  quick,  Miss  Kate ;  -  -  but  I  ain't 
goin'  to  cry!" 

"  Oh,  Patsy,  my  boy,  it  is  for  those  who  are  left  be- 
hind, to  cry.  It  must  be  better  to  go!" 

"Well,  I'm  willin'!  I've  got  enough  o' this,  I  tell 
yer,  with  back-aches  'n  fits,  'n  boys  callin'  sassy  names 
-  'n  no  gravy  ever  on  my  pertater;  --  but  I  hate  ter 
go  'way  from  the  Kindergartent — only  p'raps  Heaven 
is  just  like,  only  bigger,  'n  more  children,  -  -  'n  no 
Jimmy  Battleses !  Sing  the  hymn,  will  yer,  please,  -- 
Miss  Kate  ?  " 

And  in  a  voice  choked  with  tears,  as  Jim  came  in  the 
door,  and  lifted  Patsy  in  his  arms,  I  sang  the  hymn 
that  he  had  sung,  with  folded  hands  and  reverent  mien, 
every  morning  of  his  life  in  the  Kindergarten. 


THE  STOR  Y  OF  PA  TS  Y.  27 

"  Father  we  thank  Thee  for  the  night, 
And  for  the  pleasant  morning  light; 
For  rest  and  gladness,  love  and  care, 
And  all  that  makes  the  day  so  fair  ! 
Help  us  to  do  the  things  we  should: 
To  be  to  others  kind  and  good; 
In  all  we  do,  in  work  or  play, 
To  grow  more  loving  every  day  ! ' ' 

The  last  lingering,  trembling  note  falls  upon  the 
death-like  stillness  of  the  room,  as  with  one  sharp, 
brief  struggle,  one  look  of  ineffable  love  and  peace, 
the  tired  lids  droop  heavily  over  the  eyes,  never  to  be 
lifted  again.  Light  has  gleamed  upon  the  darkened 
pathway,  but  the  silent  room,  the  dying  fire,  the  failing 
light  and  the  falling  rain  are  all  in  fellowship  with 
Death.  My  blessed  boy!  God  has  given  him  back 
his  three  lost  years ! 

"Oil!  it  is  hard  to  take  to  heart  the  lesson  that  such 
deaths  will  teach,  but  let  no  man  reject  it,  for  it  is  one 
that  all  must  learn.  When  Death  strikes  clown  the  in- 
nocent and  young,  from  every  fragile  form  from  which 
he  lets  the  panting  spirit  free,  a  hundred  virtues  rise, 
in  shapes  of  mercy,  charity  and  love,  to  walk  the  world 
and  bless  it.  Of  every  tear  that  sorrowing  mortals 
shed  011  such  green  graves,  some  good  is  born,  some 
grntler  nature  comes!" 


I  r! ' 


